


Of Politics and Angel Drops

by GalacticPostie



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Awakening trio being a family, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nohrian and Feroxi cultural differences, Political Shenanigans, Still don't quite know where I'm going with this, aka Xander somehow manages to piss off Laslow, also an angel drop is an aerial silk move, and fiddle about with Nohrian and Feroxi lore, just in case you were wondering where this mess of a fic is heading, look ngl this fic is an excuse for me to gush about dancing headcanons, so rating and character tags may change, waging a bloodless war is actually pretty difficult, who knew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticPostie/pseuds/GalacticPostie
Summary: All Xander wanted was for the Ice Tribe to not declare war on Corrin's army. If that meant throwing the best celebration he could with limited resources, well, he'd do what he must. He just never expected it'd end up so ridiculously entangled with his personal life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *Sees Xanlow week notice like a month in advance* Oh boy!!! I've got such a good idea!!! I'm going to write so much and be productive and- 
> 
> *Drags out a scene that was initially going to be 200 words into 2000* 
> 
> ...hoo boy it's gonna be one of those fics isn't it.

Politics, Xander decides, are far more hazardous than the Faceless. His frown deepens as he scans yet another thinly veiled jab by the ice tribe, a deceivingly simple request to meet the defected Nohrians in a gesture of goodwill. Refusal would be disastrous, failure to put forward a spectacle worthy of a newly kindled alliance equally so. Yet how were they supposed to gather resources when they were focused on feeding an army? He throws down the letter with more force than was strictly necessary, sparing a second to rub his temples. Its times like these he envies Corrin's cheerful ignorance at just how much effort a bloodless war actually took.

  

"Milord? I've brought you tea. Peri made her animal cookies today, so there's a few of those here as well if you'd like." Laslow peers around the flaps of his tent, flashing a sympathetic smile at his lord's hunched frame. Xander's head hangs further and he lets out a frustrated groan.

 

"I _told_ her to stop doing that. We don't have enough supplies for her to be using all the sugar." He takes the biscuit off Laslow's tray anyway, biting into a beautiful recreation of a puppy and not even blinking at the bright red jam that oozes out. 

 

"Ah, no no! She did listen to you this time! All the sweetness in this particular recipe comes from the berries and honey that Keaton helped her find." It's hard not to smile at the pride in Laslow's voice as he unloads his tray, shuffling papers until he could set the teapot down with a gentle tap. It's equally as difficult to ignore the amazing flavours unfurling in his mouth.

 

"Is that so? My apologies then." He finishes off the biscuit in three quick bites and reaches for another, the scent of his favourite blend curling lazily around the tent as Laslow laughs.

 

"You've got crumbs all down your cravat. Not so elegant in the comfort of your own tent, eh?" He leans over and busies himself brushing the miniscule specks away, Xander rolling his eyes even as he tilts his head to allow easier access. Heaven forbid he ate like a regular person sometimes. Laslow had the odd, slightly irritating habit of fussing over the smallest things: a loose thread on his shirt, lint on his cape, crumbs on his cravat. For the sake of not being in a constant state of confused annoyance Xander had learnt to take it in his stride. Laslow finishes his tweaking and steps back to run a critical eye up and down his form, nodding once before giving his shoulder a final pat. 

 

"There you are! Now, what has my liege looking so glum?" He slides around to the opposite side of the desk, snagging the top sheet off a stack of paper in the same movement. Xander can't help but find a morbid sense of solidarity in the way his smile falters when he spots the ice tribe's seal.

 

"Ah. Ice tribe's at it again, I see."

 

"Unfortunately. I've already refused several times, to do so again…" Xander exhales, pulling a hand through his hair and feeling it bump against the cold metal of his crown. "I'm just going to have to pull the resources from somewhere. Probably from the armoury budget." he smiles humourlessly and reaches for the last of Peri's biscuits, pauses. Xander stares at the food in his hand and wonders how tired he must be to overlook such an obvious solution.

 

"Peri's food is court-worthy, yes?"

 

"I-" Laslow blinks at him, his expression somewhere between confusion and being mildly affronted Xander had even asked. "Of course it is! I mean no disrespect to the chefs of Nohr, but Peri can run rings around most of them. Why do you ask? Were the biscuits not to your liking? I can get you more-" finally the penny drops and for a split second Laslow looks relieved before the grin is back on his face. "Oh! Yes, that could definitely work. She'd need some extra hands to accommodate for the upscaling, but yes."

 

Xander lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, the hard line to his shoulders easing as things started to slide into place. He'd still need to shell out for the more extravagant ingredients, that was unavoidable, but supplementing recipes with foraged goods and not hiring a court-level chef took this event from a guaranteed bankruptcy to manageable. Not ideal, but manageable. He takes a sip from his tea, the tension in his face slipping away. He has a mountain of work to do, people to lead, but he still finds time to eye Laslow over the rim of his cup, a teasing smile hidden behind the fine china. Laslow catches onto the shift in atmosphere almost immediately. 

 

"You seemed rather relieved a moment ago. Were you worried you'd have to fight me to protect Peri's chefly honour?"

 

"Gods, like we all don't know how that would go," he laughs, shaking his head, "It's more along the lines of I thought you were going to have me tell Peri that you didn't like her biscuits. I'm…fairly confident I would've made it out fine, but it's hard enough to convince her to leave the servants alone as it is."

 

"They'd be fine. Apparently Felicia's been teaching them some evasive manoeuvres. From what I've seen she'd have to catch them first."

 

"…Well that explains why Lana's never around when I've got free time." 

 

Xander makes a highly undignified sound into his teacup, almost choking on the rebound.

 

"Don't laugh at me, this is serious! What if I need her for something? What if there's a vitally important document that only Lana can deliver? Milord!" Laslow's whiny tone of voice is belied by his grin, moving over to pat Xander on the back and pout at the mirth he saw on those features. "Honestly. I can't get any sympathy from anyone."  

 

"You get plenty when you deserve it. Or are you going to argue I was unsympathetic when Keaton chased you across camp with that insect?"

 

"You promised you'd never bring that up again," he groans, burying his face dramatically in Xander's desk. "Do you know Milady Elise does it now? Finds it hilarious to drop those multi legged, filthy crimes against Na- the Dusk Dragon on my face. What if it gets in my mouth?" He shudders. Xander visibly rolls his eyes.

 

"You've been spending too much time with Odin. Elise," he pauses here, making sure to catch Laslow's eyes with the most serious look he can muster, "is a perfect angel and has never done anything wrong in her life."

 

"By the Gods, it's in the blood. You're all terrible, _terrible_ enablers and I hate you all." Laslow collapses dramatically on Xander's desk. Xander finishes his tea in one swift movement, washing down the urge to laugh again.

 

"I don't know what you mean. Come along, we have an Ice Tribe to mollify. Pass me the armoury reports please."

 

And just like that Laslow's totally fine, already sifting through the now-scattered piles of paperwork with little more than an "of course, Milord." Xander isn't sure what twist of fate brought this man into his service, but he's deeply thankful. Not every royal got both an aide and a close friend. He allows himself one more soft smile, tucking it away in his chest for safekeeping before the armoury report is brandished triumphantly under his nose.

 

"Here, Milord! Though I do have to say the numbers aren't great. We're going to need a few more nagitana in particular, and the staves are rather low as well. My personal opinion is we're only going to be able to skim about 3,000 gold from the budget if we restock with only iron weapons."

 

That was…far less favourable news. His frown is the only outward recognition of this setback and he nods, giving the report a once-over for himself before jotting the number down. 

 

"What about medical supplies?"

 

Laslow sucks air through his teeth.

 

"…Right." He throws a few rough estimates together, running the math over and over in an attempt to make 3,000 gold cover an imperial banquet. The answer is always the same.

 

"We can cover all the food costs but we have absolutely nothing left over for entertainment." He says, running a hand through his hair. It comes to a rest on his temple and he fights off the incredible urge to drag it down his face in frustration. Laslow looks just as upset for a split second before its hidden behind cocked hips and a vibrant grin, a sight that Xander had come to christen Laslow's cheering up stance. It was both a comfort and a tell that Laslow thought his mood was bad enough to warrant its use. He moves to the other side of Xander's desk, positioning himself directly in front of his lord. 

 

"Come on now, it's not so bad! We have Azura, don't we? And I'm sure we can nab some folks from Hoshido to help out-" his eyes widen and he snaps his fingers, the movement a tad too fluid to be natural. "Orochi! We can do fireworks again! That'd go down well, yes?"

 

Xander was unconvinced. "I…suppose, but it's still very-"

 

"Ah! Say no more, Milord. I'm not finished. Of course we can't rely entirely on those two, this isn't a street festival. But what if we add some classic literature?"

 

Xander's head snapped up sharply.

 

"We don't have a bard. Unless you're suggesting we hire one?"

 

"No, no," he laughs, eyes gleaming with a thrill Xander rarely saw outside the battlefield. He suddenly gets the distinct impression that he's being toyed with, Laslow drawing every response out of him, poking and prodding to prepare him for the final strike. It'd be deeply irritating if it wasn't so obvious how Laslow adored every minute of it. As it is he rolls his eyes and shoots his retainer a look, fingers drumming on the desk between them, and is rewarded with a flashy smile.

 

"Why hire a bard…when we've got Odin Dark?"

 

"I- what?" Laslow's dazzling, beaming at him so intensely that Xander's stutter is only half due to surprise. He takes a moment to swallow the sudden lump in his throat before addressing the suggestion which was, quite frankly, ridiculous.

 

"No. We are not- no."

 

"Don't be so hasty. Have you ever heard Odin retell the Ballad of the Hero-King?"

 

"…Well," he hedged, never regretting the many communal meals he'd skipped quite as much as he did now. At least if he'd heard Odin before he could sound justified in his refusal. Laslow's grin turns triumphant.

 

"I know for a fact that many of the people around camp will vouch for Odin's skill, your family included. Hell, I think even Takumi complimented him once." He leans over the desk, looking a little too smug for Xander's liking. "And it's not like we have many other options, hmm?"

 

Xander snorts, leaning away from his gleeful retainer. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sends a quick prayer to the Dusk Dragon.

 

"Fine. I get to pick the subject matter though."

 

"Aww, and here I was hoping to hear the Ballad of the Dark Prince Xander." Laslow's teasing and he knows it, but Xander can't help the way his face drains of colour at the thought. As a prince he's no stranger to praise, deserving or no, but to sit through Odin's particular brand of prose… He grimaces and Laslow laughs, already pressing his advantage.

 

"And hark, he burst forth from the haze, armour gleaming with unholy fire-"

 

"Continue that sentence and you'll be stuck with me for the rest of the week." Laslow holds his hands up in surrender and clamps his mouth shut, though his grin ruins the illusion of an apology. Xander glares at him for a few seconds before the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

 

"There it is! I was beginning to think I'd never see that smile of yours again."

 

Xander rolls his eyes, the movement far more fond than he'd ever admit, and plucks his quill out of its inkwell. Laslow gives him one last flash of teeth and slides back into work mode, his objective met.

 

"So we've got singing, fireworks, and dramatic storytelling. Do you think we need anything else, Milord?"

 

"I think one more event would round us out nicely. Usually dancing is traditional to this kind of gathering, but we'll have to do without." He drafts his opening sentence, scanning it for a few seconds before he draws a neat line through it. For a few moments there is silence.

 

"Well hey," Laslow starts, his tone of voice light, "if we're really stuck, I suppose I could embarrass myself in front of the Ice Tribe for a few songs." He grins at him and shimmies his hips, one eyebrow raised for comedic effect. Xander chuckles and shakes his head.

 

"Thank you, but I don't think I'm quite that desperate yet. I'll find something else to fill the slot." He returns to his letter, trying to find a different, less hostile approach to giving in to the Ice Tribe's demand. Silence returns, but for once it isn't comfortable. Xander glances upwards to find Laslow looking like he'd just been slapped. 

 

"I… I wasn't joking, Milord."

 

Oh.

 

His mouth jams shut, their gazes frozen together. A beat passes before Laslow forces himself to smile, his act about as believable as Charlotte's.

 

"Ah, I guess I haven't had the chance to show you my dancing before! Silly me! Of course you wouldn't- I'll just take the washing up to Peri, yes?" He's babbling, already beating a hasty retreat, and Xander can't bear to let him go like this.

 

"No, I-" he falters, clearing his throat and slowly lowering the hand that had reached out towards Laslow of its own will. "I have. Once or twice."

 

"…I see." Laslow looks- Xander doesn't even know how to describe it. He hurries on, desperately trying to explain.

 

"You're very talented, Laslow. It's not you at all, it's," he fumbles for the words, cursing how all his years of diplomatic training seems to leave him in this moment. "Your style."

 

Laslow's head snaps upwards, his expression jumping from distraught to a careful blank. It was so sudden Xander didn't know what to make of it.

 

"…My style."

 

"I- Yes. Don't misunderstand, it's beautiful, but it's not exactly… suited for the courts." The worst part is Xander knows it's true. Laslow is extremely talented, he knows this, but from what little he'd seen his dancing was more appropriate to public taverns than the royal halls. He knows this must be hard to hear, but Laslow had been so understanding of court etiquette in the past, surely he could tell this wasn't personal?

 

"Right. Right! Ok then." Laslow nods, a smile on his face, and that's all Xander needs to see to know he's said something terribly wrong. "If there's nothing else you need, I really must be going. An event to help organize and all that."      

 

"Laslow, I'm-"

 

 "I'd like to go eat if you don't mind, so if there's anything you need call Peri, okay?" The remains of morning tea are collected in a flash, Laslow quickly pulling back before Xander can stop him. He's almost out the door when Xander finally stands up.

 

"Laslow!"

 

He halts, his face still pointed firmly down the hall. Xander instantly drops the harsher edge to his tone.

 

"I'm sorry, Laslow. I didn’t mean to upset you."

 

"Of course, Milord. If you'll excuse me."

 

"Laslow-" he grabs his arm in a fit of frustration, honestly a little bewildered that his retainer had taken it personally. Nevertheless he wasn't about to let a misunderstanding ruin one of his most treasured friendships. "Fine, let's stay and talk about this then. It's better to clear the air now than later."

 

"…Are you ordering me to stay?"  

 

Xander freezes. Slowly, he lets his grip on Laslow's shoulder loosen.

 

"…No. I'd never do that to you." All the frustration leaves him in a rush, the sudden release only enhancing the sour feeling in his gut. Laslow nods and gently slides himself out of his grasp.

 

"Then I'll be leaving now. Till next time, Lord Xander."

 

And just like that he disappears, leaving Xander staring at empty air. 

**Author's Note:**

> ....Still not happy with that ending but I've been wrestling with this chapter for about two months and if I didn't get it out soon I was going to yell. Anyway I haven't written of my own volition in like a year and I have no idea how readable/in character this is?? Any feedback you could give would be appreciated!


End file.
